


Rendezvous in Sector 21503

by fmlyhntr, jamelia116, Rocky_T, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [29]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Returning Home, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 09:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20636927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmlyhntr/pseuds/fmlyhntr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: The galaxy is vast; most is unknown to the many members of the Federation. One Starfleet vessel, theUSS Voyager,has seen more of it than any other single ship in Starfleet history. Now that her mission is nearly finished, her captain's promise to bring her crew home is about to be fulfilled.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom/CBS possess the rights to all things Star Trek. Our group acknowledges this fact. We're just borrowing their characters for a while to tell a different story about the ship's return to the Alpha Quadrant. We promise to put them back unharmed when we're done.

**Rendezvous in Sector 21503****  
  
****By Christina and Rocky with jamelia**  


  
****Prologue   
  
Megan Delaney sipped a cup of whatever tea variety had been in the urn and stared at the plate of pasta, covered with an unknown purplish sauce, sitting in front of her.  
  
"Do we know what it is?" B'Elanna asked, as she placed her own plate on the table and sat across from Megan.  
  
"Cold leftovers. Neelix hasn't been able to open up the kitchen yet," Megan replied. "If we're lucky, we'll run out of leftovers soon and have to eat ration bars."  
  
B'Elanna chuckled as she took a tentative mouthful. "This isn't that bad. At least it doesn't have leola root in it."  
  
"True," Megan responded. "No leola root is always a plus. It's just that most of Neelix's cooking is better warm--and it doesn't improve on repetition. Don't you agree?"  
  
"An excellent observation, Ensign Delaney," B'Elanna agreed with a laugh.  
  
"So, have you been able to get any rest since our exit from slipstream? I know Commander Tuvok claims to be able to go two weeks without sleeping in an emergency. I never heard that was true of Klingons!"  
  
"I did. I cuddled up with Miral for a few hours," B'Elanna replied. "Have you encountered any more problems with your systems while I was off duty?"  
  
Megan shook her head. "No, unless you count another power fluctuation in Astrometrics. That's still happening occasionally, but it's no worse than it was after a regular length jump. Using those power storage modules was a great idea. It's too bad we didn't think of them before!"  
  
B'Elanna sighed. "By this time, fluctuations like that shouldn't be happening. We've been out of the slipstream for over 24 hours. The primary systems should all be working well by now. I'll check into it right away." She started to rise.  
  
Megan held up a hand. "Hold on. Joe came by and took care of it already. The secondary screens and more exotic Borg-type monitoring systems aren't up yet, but we should be fine for the time being. Your team took care of all the priorities, B'Elanna. Joe told me the ship can make it up to warp three if we have to, shields and weapons are all at fifty percent or greater strength, and I was able to confirm that we came out of the slipstream exactly where--and when--we wanted to be. Even with that little swing to keep us a farther away from Romulan space, we're less than fourteen hundred light years away from home now."  
  
"I made sure of all that before I let Tom put me to bed," B'Elanna said, lifting another forkful of food up to her mouth. "Wait. That didn't come out right."  
  
Megan giggled. "It doesn't matter how he got you into bed--or what you did there! The important thing is, we're almost home. While you were asleep, we were able to get the FTL transmission system up briefly, and the captain heard from Admiral Hayes. He gave us coordinates for our last jump! We'll be exiting the corridor just a short distance from Deep Space Nine. He told the captain he plans to order the _Enterprise_ to escort us from there! The flagship of the fleet!"  
  
"Very nice," B'Elanna said, when she'd finished chewing. "So FTL isn't working now?"  
  
"No, but Harry says he's going to make getting it back up a priority." Megan took the last sip of her tea and leaned back in her chair. "Have you thought about what you'll do when we return home?"   
  
B'Elanna glanced at Megan in confusion at the sudden change in subject. "Some," she said slowly. "I heard through my cousin that Utopia Planitia might be interested in me. I suppose they'll want me to explain all the Borg and other alien tech we've added to the ship." She took another forkful of pasta and chewed carefully. "What about you?"  
  
"I haven't decided yet what I want to do. Jenny's determined to go to command school."  
  
"Good for her." B'Elanna glanced around the full Mess Hall. "Starfleet has said remarkably little about the Maquis. I guess I'm just hoping we're just not tossed in jail."  
  
"You'd think they'd have said something...anything by now," Megan agreed.  
  
"Yes." B'Elanna raised her head. "By the way, you still have some stuff stored on Deck Eleven. You planning on packing it up anytime soon?"  
  
"Soon," Megan said sheepishly. "I have no idea where I'm going to put it when I get home. I suppose I should go through it and throw out most of it." Megan seriously doubted she'd throw that much away, in all honesty. It was all stuff she had collected over their eight years in the Delta Quadrant. "What about you? As I recall, one of those storage lockers belongs to your family. How much has Tom bought for Miral?"  
  
"Too much. Between Tom and the rest of the crew, we have accumulated more things than can fit comfortably in our quarters. I believe you and Jenny are among the guilty who have contributed to the clutter," she added accusingly, softened by a grin.  
  
Megan smiled. "Hey...it was all for Miral."  
  
B'Elanna smiled softly, almost to herself at first. "You know what Miral did yesterday, just before we..."   
  
Whatever B'Elanna was about to say was lost in the din when everyone in the Mess Hall started clapping and whistling as Harry Kim walked through the doors. His good buddy Tom Paris followed close behind, gesturing with his arms as if he was presenting royalty to the peasantry. B'Elanna shook her head and chuckled to herself as Harry bowed to acknowledge the cheers from the crowd, but B'Elanna could see that her friend was clearly moved by the acclaim from his peers. In fact, he was blushing.   
  
"B'Elanna, I think Harry has tears of joy in his eyes!" Megan said.  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised. No one on this ship wants to get home more desperately than Harry Kim. You know that, Megan."  
  
There was more. When the cheers threatened to die away, Tom, ever the showman, announced, "All hail, Harry Kim! He's done such a bang-up job with this jump, Captain Janeway has named him as coordinator of the next jump, too. The last jump. The one that will take us home!"  
  
Megan and B'Elanna clapped and cheered along with the rest of the Mess Hall occupants. When B'Elanna stole a glance at her companion, she could see Harry wasn't the only one affected by this announcement. Tears were running down Megan's cheeks, and B'Elanna felt a little misty-eyed herself. The future might be uncertain for her and many of her crew mates, but getting home--finally--still sounded pretty good to B'Elanna Torres.  
  



	2. Act 1

  
**Act 1**  
  
(Somewhere in the Beta Quadrant)  
  
"I agree, Senator Ralurm," the Tal Shiar agent known as Nolqira replied with an inward smile. The female Senator had insisted upon this meeting, so Nolqira had picked the heart of the Romulan capital. Ralurm was overly worried, and just needed some reassurance. He could provide that. He leaned back in his chair just as the monitor signaled the arrival of an incoming message.  
  
Senator Ralurm looked up expectantly. "Is that Sub-Commander Virapl on the _Aehallh_?" she asked.  
  
Nolqira nodded. "He is punctual, as usual." He cast a sidelong glance at her. "There is no need to let him know of your involvement."  
  
"Of course," she said. He thought she seemed relieved. Nolqira was also pleased with her willingness to remain in the shadows--even though he knew full well she was doing it to protect herself if anything went wrong. As a veteran of over a hundred covert assignments, he was accustomed to operating out of the limelight--so to speak. His plan was being conducted independently of the Tal Shiar. Only he knew the full scope of the plan--a plan that was about to come to fruition. The image of a Romulan officer appeared on his screen.  
  
"Sub-Commander," Nolqira said. "I trust all is well?"  
  
"All is proceeding as planned. We have just rendezvoused with the battle cruiser, _Khellian_."  
  
"Any word from our ‘allies’?" Nolqira enjoyed the look of disgust on Virapl's face at the mere mention of the word.  
  
"Our _allies_ are now onboard the _Aehallh_."  
  
"Excellent. Both ships are to proceed directly to the operation site fully cloaked. Until you have successfully completed the mission, you are to maintain subspace silence."  
  
Virapl acknowledged the order and the screen went blank.  
  
"Allies?" Ralurm asked.  
  
"The two Ferengi brothers I met on ch'Harranth." Nolqira shrugged. "They were almost successful a year ago in waylaying _Voyager_ and have knowledge of the ship and its particulars my agents do not.” He paused. “While they have been most useful, they are also a liability to our plans and the Emperor."  
  
She nodded. " Does Sub-Commander Virapl understand that failure is not an option?"  
  
"Yes, Senator, all involved understand their duty."  
  
Ralurm smiled in satisfaction. "Our alliance with the Federation should never have happened. Regardless of whether the alliance survives, the Romulan Empire will not fade into the interstellar dust. Obtaining the technology this ship has reportedly acquired has far-reaching ramifications." Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Emperor wants this too, to serve his own ambitions. However…"  
  
Nolqira nodded with more understanding than Senator Ralurm could possibly know. After the death of the Empress just a year ago, her cousin and heir was trying to regain the power she had let slip away. But like the Senator, he could not publicly be seen to be involved.  
  
"Yes, Senator."   
  
Ralurm laughed suddenly. "Virapl mentioned the _Khellian_ Sub-Commander Shopar's ship? Senator Mykar will not approve. You have chosen well." As she stood to leave, her voice hardened. "I don't expect to hear from you again until the mission has successfully concluded."  
  
Nolqira waited until she'd left before he permitted himself to smile at the joke at Mykar's expense. Mykar was in favor of the Federation alliance. Sub-Commander Shopar had been married to Senator Mykar's sister--until her sudden and mysterious death seven years ago. Shopar had promptly married his mistress. As a result, Mykar had made sure that Shopar had not been promoted. Nolqira disliked Mykar, whom he’d always considered an overbred fop. His resentment had deepened after his own family had fallen into disfavor, as had Virapl's family. All of them had been passed over for higher command for many years. Nolqira felt a certain kinship with both officers. They were ambitious, frustrated, and had readily accepted their assignment from Nolqira. And their rewards would be generous.  
  
The biggest reward would be freedom from that treaty--a treaty that should never have happened and wouldn't have—without Federation subterfuge. But the late Empress had forbidden the Tal Shiar from revealing the truth and had felt honor-bound to uphold the treaty.  
  
Ch'Harranth had been an interesting mission, one that had ended with him meeting the Ferengi brothers. He’d worked with Ferengi before and was fully aware of their well-deserved reputation. Dangle profit in front of them, and they could be most cooperative, but still duplicitous. They could never be trusted. These two had claimed to have some interesting information on the supposedly lost Federation Starship _Voyager_.   
  
Of course he knew of Voyager. He'd avoided being involved in the hasty and doomed attempt to capture Starfleet's experimental ship, The Prometheus. The leaders of Tal Shiara had purged all those involved or possibly involved--and had abandoned the project. But Nolqira had seen another possibility after meeting his "allies." He'd had his agents quietly continue to monitor Federation and Voyager communications. The Ferengi brothers promised additional information, but Nolqira was wary. The brothers were impatient, a quality he abhorred. The best plans succeeded because of patience and proper planning, a lesson which had been reinforced by the grotesque failure to capture Prometheus. Two medical holograms--holograms of all things!--had managed to neutralize an entire commando team! How could such an "elite" team have allowed that to happen? The stink had been buried before going too high in the Tal Shiara hierarchy.  
  
He picked up his scanner and swept the room again, as he had before the meeting began. Whenever anyone else physically entered his personal space, he completed a security sweep beforehand, as well as after the visitor left. One could never be too cautious.   
  
Nolqira considered the Senator’s involvement a weak link in his plans. Not that he suspected the Senator would betray him (she would if she could, he knew that very well), but he hadn't lasted twenty years in the Tal Shiar by trusting anyone. Failure or success, after this operation, 'Nolqira' would vanish. He would pick another alias. But first he would move to another safe house. One the senator did not know.  
  
#  
  
Jenny sat down on her bed and looked around. When she and Megan had first boarded _Voyager_ they'd arrived with just two duffel bags apiece. In the past week she had packed three boxes of items they'd collected over the years, and there was still more to go. That included the contents of a small storage locker on Deck 11: souvenirs of all kinds, clothes they'd only worn occasionally, fabric they'd bought to have made into garments they'd never actually finished, their Twin Mistresses of Evil costumes for the Captain Proton program, and things they'd bought to give as gifts to family and friends, like the telescope for Robbie that might or might not be a true antique--but who cared? It was beautiful.  
  
Where had it all come from?   
  
Well, really, she knew where it had come from. Both of them loved to shop!  
  
She picked up the translucent-amber statue of an unidentifiable animal. She'd bought it from a merchant three weeks after their arrival in the DQ, the first of many acquisitions. Each piece had significance, and she was reluctant to get rid of any of them. She put the statue back in the box, and decided that the nap she'd promised herself would be a better use of her time than packing. She only had a five hour break.  
  
Jenny yawned, fighting another wave of exhaustion. They would be going through the slipstream in just few hours, and she needed to be awake for it. She wanted to remember their arrival near Deep Space Nine for the rest of her life. _Voyager's_ appearance was going to be an epic moment, and Deep Space Nine was where their journey began, as far as she was concerned, because that's where Megan and Jenny first walked onto _Voyager_ for the first time. So it was fitting that their trip would end there, too.  
  
The news that _Voyager _was going to meet up with the flagship of the fleet was also exciting. Like most of her graduating class, she'd dreamed of serving on one day on Starfleet's most renowned vessel, the_ Enterprise_. But, she had to admit, life on _Enterprise_ couldn't be anywhere near as exciting as serving on _Voyager_\--even if she was ready for a chance to experience life in the Alpha Quadrant for a change.  
  
She lay down, even as she thought about her letter of acceptance for Command School. Megan thought she was nuts. They might be identical twins, but they had vastly differing goals and aspirations.   
  
Maybe being named head of Astrometrics so early in her career hadn't been a good thing for Megan after all. Being passed over for her sister actually made Jenny more dedicated to having a career in Starfleet. In the past, when the twins were in the Academy, Jenny hadn't realized it was something she really wanted. Her years in San Francisco had been a lark. Although her grades never suffered, Jenny had been as entranced by the social scene as she had about learning to be one of the "Best and the Brightest" officers of the 'Fleet. When she looked back at her time there now, Jenny was a little embarrassed about how she'd treated it as a big game, a way to impress guys. Megan, on the other hand, may have partied with the best of them, but she'd never lost sight of her desire for a career.  
  
How ironic it was that Megan was now the one who'd had enough, while Jenny longed to have a second chance at proving herself worthy of the gift she'd been given--of serving on a starship that had returned from the dead, sharing knowledge of spatial phenomenon, strange new worlds, and species no one in the Alpha Quadrant could have dreamed of learning about for decades, maybe even centuries, since they were so far away in the Delta Quadrant. In one of her first postings, Ensign Megan Delaney had achieved enough of her goals that she was ready to step away from the service and find something else to do for the rest of her life.   
  
Jenny yawned again and told herself, firmly, that she'd have plenty of time to think about her career once they were walking along Deep Space Nine's Promenade. What she needed now was sleep. Jenny turned over on her side and ordered, "Computer, set alarm for zero two thirty." She barely heard the computer confirming her wake up time before consciousness drifted away.  
  
#  
  
Harry couldn't stop smiling as the lift started to move. This was it. His life had been absolutely crazy for the past nine days, taking care of all the little details that had to be in place before a jump could take place, but it was all going to be worth it. In just a few minutes time, their journey would be over.  
  
"Stop smiling," Tom said. "We're not home yet." Despite his words, Tom was smiling too.  
  
"Only after you stop smiling, Tom," Harry countered. “We’re almost home!”  
  
"Hey, don't jinx us," Tom said warningly.  
  
"I have no intention of jinxing anything." Harry's grin grew. "Mom is expecting us over for dumplings as soon as things settle down some. She wants to meet Marla." The banter stopped for a second as the lift door opened, depositing them on the bridge. "Knowing her, I bet she'll be on the first ship to Deep Space Nine when our arrival is announced."  
  
"Good morning, Lieutenants," Chakotay said. He gave them a mock frown. "The bridge is no place for levity."  
  
"Aye, sir," Tom said. Chakotay was grinning too.  
  
Harry relieved Hugh Murphy at the ops station. "I'm jealous," Hugh said. "I'll trade you shifts."  
  
"But you've just finished your shift," Harry said with a laugh.  
  
"For this, I'll gladly serve four in a row. Are you sure you wouldn't rather go back to bed?" Hugh winked.  
  
Harry said, "And miss our final jump? No way. Especially as I’m running this one, right Commander?” At Chakotay’s nod, Harry continued, “Sorry, Hugh, you'll just have to watch from the Mess Hall with everyone else."   
  
Hugh laughed. “It was worth a shot. See you on the other side!”  
  
Harry chuckled, then frowned when a light flashed. "Commander, we're receiving a message from Starfleet." This was only the second message from Starfleet they'd received since the first, which came shortly after _Voyager's_ previous exit from the slipstream. Admiral Hayes had congratulated them on successfully completing their initial jump of fifteen hundred light years and provided them with orders to end the last one close to Deep Space Nine. They had tried but failed to raise Starfleet ever since.  
  
"I'll inform the captain," Chakotay said.   
  
Janeway entered from her Ready Room a second later. "Yes, Lieutenant," she said. "Display the message onscreen."  
  
The image of Admiral Hayes appeared briefly. It broke up slightly before he said, "Captain Janeway."  
  
"Admiral, we're ready to engage the slipstream." She smiled. "We'll be home in a..."  
  
Hayes was frowning. "I'm sorry, but there's a slight change in plans. Due to security concerns, we want you to proceed to Sector 21503." The image flickered again. Harry adjusted the incoming signal so they could maintain contact.  
  
"Sector 21503?" Janeway said with surprise. "Sir, that's..."  
  
"You have your orders, Captain Janeway. The _Enterprise_ will rendezvous with you there. Starfleet out." The image vanished, leaving Janeway and most of the bridge crew shaking their heads.   
  
Harry hesitated. "Sector 21503? But that's on the other side of the Badlands from the coordinates Admiral Hayes gave us before."  
  
"Yes, it is, Mr. Kim. Double check that," Janeway said with a quick glance at Chakotay, who shrugged.  
  
"The transmitted orders confirm Sector 21503. I've sent the coordinates to the helm," Harry said, after checking through the file. "And I've tried to contact Starfleet to confirm there's no mistake, Captain, but the FTL system isn't cooperating. I haven't been able to reconnect with Pathfinder."   
  
"Strange," she said. "Starfleet really must be worried to make such a drastic change in our destination. But why have us exit in the Badlands themselves?"  
  
"He said 'security concerns.' I guess we'll find out soon enough," Chakotay said. "It is ironic though-- they have us returning to the exact place where this journey began eight years ago."  
  
"Captain, may I approach?" Tom said. "I have concerns about that location, considering the state of the ship when we exit the slipstream."  
  
"I have, too, Mr. Paris. We'll put a hold on our departure. After eight years, taking a few more minutes before starting out won't make that much difference. Mr. Kim, Commander Chakotay, Commander Tuvok, join us in my Ready Room."  
  
The door to the Ready Room had barely slid shut before Tom said, "Captain, when we spoke with Admiral Hayes a couple of weeks ago, I explained that Megan plots a course for us to avoid microsingularities or any plasma storms she can detect, at least for as far as our long range sensors can reach. Sector 21503 is in the Badlands. It positively seethes with plasma storms which shift around constantly. It's difficult to navigate there even when shields are at full strength."   
  
She nodded. "I agree, Lieutenant. And our shields will be extremely weak, or non-existent, for some time after we leave the slipstream. Long enough for this ship to sustain serious damage from a plasma storm if we're unlucky enough to land inside one. "Commander Tuvok, were the proper authorization codes embedded in that communication?"  
  
"Aye, Captain," Tuvok responded. "The message appeared to be authentic."  
  
Harry had rerun a piece of the message right after he received it and double checked the authorization codes himself, once he heard they were to arrive at Sector 51203. Nothing had been wrong with the codes that he could see, or with the transmission itself--except for that flickering. He hadn't thought that distortion was at all unusual, considering the distance the message had traveled, but from the captain's next words, she must not have agreed with that analysis.  
  
"The way that message kept breaking up bothers me," she said. “I'm not sure we can blindly trust what we heard."  
  
"Admiral Hayes gave us a direct order," Tuvok said. "The change in location and the security concerns he raised in our previous communications suggest he may possess information he does not wish to mention over a system that has been compromised to our certain knowledge on at least two previous occasions. Proper authorization codes were attached at those times as well."  
  
"Is there a way to justify our exiting the slipstream at another location to Admiral Hayes, in case the message was completely legitimate?" Chakotay asked.  
  
Tom leaned back in his chair and almost too casually offered, "You know, we've had issues with the slipstream before. Captain, you've ordered us to exit at the very first suggestion of trouble. What if something were to force us to drop out of slipstream a little sooner than expected, maybe just short of the Badlands...maybe even several hundred kilometers short? Just at the very edge of Sector 51203, perhaps?"  
  
"It _will_ be most unfortunate if we are unable to follow Admiral Hayes' order exactly, but the safety of our crew is paramount," the captain said crisply. "If you detect any sign of trouble, Mr. Paris, by all means, you must exit the slipstream immediately. For the safety of the ship."   
  
The captain and three of her bridge officers smiled smugly. The fourth officer, Commander Tuvok, never smiled, but he gave his head a slight dip to acknowledge he understood the captain's reasoning. After all, it was only logical to do what was necessary to protect the ship and its crew--particularly in the Badlands.  
  
#  
  
"Ship's status?" Janeway asked.  
  
"All departments report ready," said Chakotay. "Well, this is it."  
  
Fourteen hundred light years in mere minutes...and they would be home in time for Christmas and Prixin.  
  
"Lieutenant Paris, prepare to engage the slipstream," Janeway said. "Open a ship-wide channel." Harry responded quickly. "I want to thank everyone for a job well done. For nearly eight years we have worked together--we've become more than just a crew, but a family as well." She smiled. "In approximately three minutes, we'll be back where this odyssey began: the Badlands. Not the calm arrival I'd expected. Everyone prepare for a rough ride, but we're going home." She motioned for Harry to cut the link. "Take us into the slipstream."  
  
A light blinked on his console, "Captain--" _Voyager_ was already entering the slipstream tunnel. "--we're receiving another message..." He tried desperately to maintain a lock on the signal, but as _Voyager_'s speed increased, the lock destabilized.  
  
"What does it say?" Janeway asked.  
  
"'I'm sorry, Captain, but all I could get was the greeting. It was possibly a 'sensor echo' of Admiral Hayes' recent message." _Voyager_ shuddered.  
  
"We're approaching maximum velocity," Tom announced as the familiar white network of the slipstream conduit formed and enveloped them. "We'll be exiting the slipstream in two minutes fifty-seven seconds."  
  
**#  
  
**Nunk grinned at the entrancing, very young female Romulan officer nearby. He would pay good latinum to get _her_ to rub his earlobes. The thought of oo-mox was most pleasant, but a stern look from Sub-Commander Virapl stopped him from actually approaching her. Maybe later, when Virapl was not around. In the meantime, she continued to appear to ignore him, but he could tell--she was interested. He came abruptly out of his dream of delight when Blont hit him on the shoulder.  
  
"Brother, pay attention."  
  
Nunk glared at his brother while he rubbed his left lobe himself. "I was. She's absolutely exquisite. Those long, sensuous fingers...?"  
  
Blont grinned lasciviously. "Not so loud," he whispered.  
  
"So, when do we get _Voyager_?" Nunk asked, still rubbing his lobe.  
  
"The Sub-Commander has assured me that _Voyager_ will arrive at the designated coordinates soon."  
  
Nunk scowled and dropped his hand into his lap. "It's too bad the original Borg female left the ship, she was most valuable."  
  
"There are now two other Borg on board. One of them is female."  
  
Nunk shook his head. "So you told me, but..." he stopped speaking as a Romulan centurion walked by.  
  
"Sir," the officer said. "_Voyager_ has exited the slipstream."  
  
"Engage the cloak," Sub-Commander Virapl said. "And notify Sub-Commander Shopar on the _Khellian_ that he is to disable _Voyager_'s weapons."  
  
The centurion touched his fist to his chest in acknowledgment.   
  
Nunk rubbed his hands in expectation. "Millions in latinum."  
  
"Oh, more than that my brother," Blont agreed, the lust in his eyes greater than it had been while discussing the Romulan female. "And this time Starfleet won't interfere."  
  
"Sir," the female officer, Sub-Lieutenant Parval, called out. "_Voyager_ has come to a stop on the other side of the Badlands."  
  
Virapl glanced at the two Ferengi and then at the screen where the Federation vessel could be seen. He frowned. “They were ordered to stop in the Badlands. What a weak race! They cannot even follow orders.”  
  
"But _Voyager's_ not moving!" Nunk said loudly. "She's been damaged!" This wasn't good. The ship was worth more, much more, intact.  
  
"No," Virapl's lips formed into a feral smile. "The slipstream technology requires a lot of energy. It will take hours for them to recover after entering normal space. Many of their systems are down, which provides us with the perfect opportunity to strike. Or would have, if they had followed orders.” He spent several seconds studying his screen. “Chart a course around the Badlands. Relay these orders to Shopar. Maximum warp. And escort these scum off my bridge.”  
  
Nunk’s frustration grew. _Voyager_ was some distance away, and going around the Badlands would take at least an hour. Going through would take only a few minutes, but he had overheard one of the officers complaining that the cloaks were affected by the plasma storms. The longer it took for them to reach _Voyager_, the more their plans could go wrong. And to make things worse, the stunning young officer was not one of the Romulans who had been ordered to push them off the Bridge. Virapl would pay for this insult somehow. Nunk would make sure of that!   
  
#  
  
"Report," Janeway said as _Voyager_ came to a halt six hundred kilometers from the edge of the Badlands. The yellow and brown eddies were visible even at this distance. Ever since the near disastrous use of the slipstream just two-and-a-half months ago, they'd added a new protocol to their slipstream recovery to determine if they were in the correct time period.  
  
After four excruciatingly long minutes, while they waited to regain partial sensors, Harry grinned at her. "Captain, we're in the right place and time."  
  
"But where's our date?" Tom added.  
  
"There is no sign of the _Enterprise_ or any ship," Tuvok replied. "But we only have short range scanners. They may be just beyond our current range."  
  
"Keep scanning for them, Commander."  
  
For the next half hour, the captain fidgeted in her command chair--when she wasn't pacing back and forth in front of it. Thanks to the backup storage modules, some essential ship's functions were partially restored during that time. Life support and internal communications had been first. She breathed a quick sigh of relief when B'Elanna reported they now had partial impulse, giving them the capacity to move off slightly from their current position, Warp drive, however, could take several hours.  
  
"Have you been able to reach Starfleet Command through regular subspace yet, Harry? We should be close enough now to reach them that way."  
  
"No, Captain. Getting a signal through the Badlands is always difficult, and long range communications in general are still down."  
  
"Any luck recovering that second message?"   
  
"Sorry, Captain. Most of the message has been lost," Harry said. "But it was definitely from Admiral Hayes."  
  
Janeway frowned. "But why would he send another message so close on the heels of the first one?"  
  
"It could have been an echo of the first one," offered Tom.  
  
_Or maybe there was some important information he'd neglected to tell us_, she thought, throwing a quick glance in Chakotay's direction. A warning, perhaps? Either way, the lost message disturbed her. Despite having been able to improve their recovery time after emerging from the slipstream, there was still that period of time when they were blind and helpless. And if there was anything she hated most of all, it was feeling vulnerable.  
  
As she sat down in the command chair, her thoughts went back to that last complete message. Over the years she'd learned to pay attention to her instincts, and now they were telling her that something wasn't right. She frowned as she glanced at her console. Harry was right. They were less than a thousand kilometers from the sector where Starfleet's message had ordered them to be, and where the _Enterprise_ was to have met them. Even though _Voyager's _exit was slightly off their predicted exit point, _Enterprise_ should have been able to find them easily. That ship's functions wouldn't have been impaired by travelling through a slipstream. Could something have delayed the other vessel? Even though she was certain that _Voyager_ was where they were supposed to be, she said, "Tom, recheck our coordinates." She’d run a level one diagnostic, but that might not be possible for a few more hours.  
  
"Aye, Captain," Tom answered. “We are in the right time and place.”  
  
She started to stand, but Chakotay placed his hand on hers and gave her a reassuring smile. "Easy, Kathryn, they must have been delayed a little bit."  
  
She smiled back, but it quickly faded. "Maintain yellow alert." She rose precipitously. Her intuition was screaming at her. "Something's not right. Bridge to Engineering.”  
  
_“Torres here.”_  
  
“Lieutenant, move weapons up on your recovery list. How long?”  
  
_“About two more hours for phasers, Captain. Is there a problem?"_  
  
As if to confirm her words, Harry suddenly said, "Captain, I'm detecting unusual tachyon radiation."  
  
"Source?" Chakotay asked sharply.  
  
"At a distance of five thousand kilometers at heading six-five-one. It appears to be stationary."  
  
The captain went over to the Ops station and leaned over his console. "It looks like a naturally occurring phenomenon on the far side of the Badlands."  
  
"That is one possibility, Captain," Tuvok said. "It could also be evidence of a cloaked Romulan vessel."  
  
Janeway wheeled around. "Do you think this could be the reason for Admiral Hayes' hints about trouble?"   
  
"Captain," Tuvok interrupted. "The object is no longer stationary--it's heading towards us. It appears they are traveling around the Badlands."  
  
"Red Alert," the captain said immediately and returned to her seat. The corners of her mouth turned down. It appeared that, alliance or not, some habits die hard--at least as far as the Romulans were concerned. “Torres, apparently a Romulan ship is in the area. Do what you can to get shields and weapons back on line. It looks like they will be here in fifteen minutes or less.” She wanted to ask for warp, but as the fastest they could safely maintain for the next day was warp two or three, the Romulan Vessel could easily outrun them. And weapons would still be off line.   
  
After a half hour of near-constant pacing, Janeway asked, for at least the tenth time, “Status?”  
  
“We still have been able to locate just one Romulan ship, but the plasma storms are interfering with scanners,” Chakotay responded. “B’Elanna was able to bring shields on line, however, and we have limited weaponry.”  
  
Janeway's intuition kicked in again, even stronger than before. “Battle Stations,” she called out, glancing at her screen as she sat down.  
  
"There is a vessel decloaking off our port bow," Tuvok announced, even as a bright light engulfed _Voyager_. The ship shook violently.  
  
"Return fire," Janeway ordered.  
  
"Unable to comply. Weapons are offline," Tuvok said.  
  
_Damn the slipstream refractory period_, she thought in a corner of her mind. "Tom, heading zero-thirty-two maximum impulse." Straight into the Badlands.  
  
"Out of the frying pan..." Chakotay said.  
  
"And right into the fire," she whispered back. She raised her voice so she could be heard by the rest of the bridge crew, though Tuvok, with his acute hearing, had probably caught her aside to Chakotay. "Have you identified the ship?"  
  
"Aye, Captain, it is a Romulan battle cruiser," Tuvok said.  
  
Damn again, she thought. Why the hell hadn't Starfleet told them the Romulans had broken the treaty? "Is the ship following?"  
  
"It has recloaked," Tuvok answered. "Its bearing before it vanished would suggest that they have no intention of letting us get away."  
  
"We'll be blind when we enter the Badlands," Chakotay said, stating the obvious.  
  
"Not as blind as they will be, once Astrometrics comes back online." She glanced back toward Tuvok. "Weapons status?"  
  
Tuvok's reply was unexpected. "They are still offline, Captain. The Romulan vessel used a myotronic-energy torpedo, which is designed to disrupt our weapons."  
  
Janeway stabbed at her comm panel. "Bridge to Engineering--B'Elanna, how long till you can get the phasers and torpedoes back online?"  
  
_"I can't give you an estimate now, Captain,"_ B'Elanna answered, frustration in her voice. _"We'd just gotten them back up when that incoming blast fried the relays."_  
  
Janeway bit her lip. "Understood. Do the best you can, Lieutenant." She turned to Harry. "Send a message to Starfleet requesting assistance and notify them where we are. Keep sending until you get a response, no matter how long it takes to get through to them." Now there was something she hadn't been able to ask for in years--assistance from Starfleet. Of course, in addition to the way the Badlands interfered with their sensor and communication systems, they might not have been able to reach anyone if the Romulans have been jamming their transmissions. She had to have faith that wasn't what had happened.  
  
Turning to the tactical station again, Janeway asked, "Any sign of our pursuers?"  
  
"Negative, Captain," Tuvok said. "Or so I surmise from the lack of any enemy weapon fire directed at us."  
  
Her dismay grew as the yellow and brown clouds and eddies surrounded _Voyager_. Damn, they'd reset the coordinates to arrive outside the Badlands so they would avoid the storms. _Voyager_ may have been designed for this, but during the slipstream refractory period, things were not normal. _Voyager_ started to shake.  
  
After several minutes had gone by with no further mishaps, Janeway didn't breathe a sigh of relief--it was too soon for that--but she did relax marginally. "Senior staff meeting in one hour. I want more than estimates on repair times. Commander Chakotay, weapons, warp engines and Astrometrics are our priorities. Lieutenant Paris, find us a nice hiding place."  
  
"Aye, Captain," Tom replied. "Preferably one without displacement waves?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. She'd known someone was going to remind her of the event that had started their adventure. "That would be ideal, Mr. Paris."  
  
"Captain," Harry said. "The radiation in here is interfering with our ability to transmit a message."  
  
"I realize that, Mr. Kim. Keep trying anyway."  
  
#  
  
Sub-Commander Shopar stood straighter as he gave the order to follow _Voyager_ into the Badlands. _Voyager_'s weapons were down. She would be easy to capture. The _Khellian_ vibrated and the lights dimmed.  
  
"Engage secondary shielding," Shopar said. "Do not lose that ship." Even as he spoke the image on the viewscreen wavered and was replaced with a blank screen.  
  
"Sir," his second in command said. "We've lost them."  
  
"All stop. I'll be in Engineering." Shopar marched off the bridge, seething. They couldn't move until they could navigate.  
  
#  
  
Her bedroom was dark, but she could hear his breathing in the outer room. He had yet to come to bed. Not that she'd been sleeping either. She hadn't even bothered to take off her uniform.  
  
"Chakotay? What's keeping you?"  
  
A shadow appeared in the doorway. "I'll be there in a few minutes."  
  
Sure enough, he came in not long afterwards. He stopped short and stared at her attire. "I thought you'd gone to bed."  
  
"I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, now that we've discovered we have _two_ Romulan ships hunting us." She tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Bridge. What's the status of the Romulan vessels?"  
  
_"Unchanged."_  
  
"Maintain our position, Janeway out." She sighed. "We can't stay in here much longer, Chakotay."  
  
"No, but neither can they. Starfleet will be looking for us soon enough. We have better navigational abilities, and our knowledge of the Badlands is superior to theirs. We'll outlast them."  
  
"True..." Reluctantly, she brought up what was really bothering her. "How did the Romulans know where to find us?"  
  
He shrugged. "Who knows? Our arrival wasn't a well-kept secret. Maybe it's just a coincidence?"  
  
"I don't believe in coincidences," she said. "They were waiting for us, right at the spot where we were _supposed_ to exit the slipstream. Damn. I'll bet that second message..." The rest of her words were lost in a yawn. "Sorry."  
  
"That second message probably was important--but what you _need_ is sleep." He yawned himself. "I'm ready to call it a night."  
  
"What have you been working on? Something ship-related?"  
  
He gave her an abashed smile. "My notes on the Sky People. I needed a distraction from all that's going on."  
  
"Ahhh. An interesting curiosity. We've met two cultures that have been influenced by this mysterious group, three if you include Earth." She smiled at him, glad for the chance to change the subject.  
  
He returned the smile. "Very good, you may go to the head of the class." He glanced at the bed.  
  
"I think I'll go to Astrometrics instead," she said apologetically.  
  
"Kathryn..." He shook his head. He could tell she was not to be deterred. Resigned to the inevitable, he said, "Then wait for me. I'll go with you."  
  
  



	3. Act 2

  
**Act 2**  
  
Tom glanced at his console, then back up at the screen. The two Romulan ships were persistent, he'd give them that. For eight hours they'd systematically hunted for _Voyager_.  
  
One of the blips moved. For the third time since they'd hidden, one of the ships headed in their general direction. He tensed as Harry announced the distance. The last time they'd come within ten kilometers before abruptly turning around and heading in another direction. Too bad the radiation from the many plasma storms interfered with their ability to create a stable warp field--if they could even go to warp. They could barely reach full impulse with the ship in its current state, thanks to the Romulans' attack.  
  
"Lieutenant Paris," Janeway said softly, "Set a heading of zero-zero-three. Prepare to engage impulse engines."  
  
"Aye, Captain." The Romulan ship continued approaching. This certainly was not the homecoming he had hoped for his little girl.  
  
"Engage impulse," Janeway said. "Maximum speed." _Voyager_ was already moving when the Romulan ship fired. The ship trembled slightly from a glancing shot as they went deeper into the Badlands.  
  
"Lucky shot, or do you suppose they've spotted us?" Janeway murmured under her breath.  
  
The Romulan ship followed. "Guess that answers your question," Chakotay said.  
  
"Prepare to fire," Janeway ordered. The screen image shimmered and went black.  
  
"There's too much tetragenic energy," Harry called out. "Sensors are down."  
  
"Targeting sensors are also down," Tuvok added. "Preparing to fire manually."  
  
"Maybe theirs are down as well," Tom said, just as the lights dimmed almost to darkness.  
  
"All stop," Janeway ordered. "Engineering, report!"  
  
_"Systems are overloading,"_ Joe's voice said. _"We're engaging dampening fields."_  
  
Tom grimaced slightly at Joe's voice. Where was B'Elanna? He started to ask, but was interrupted by his wife's voice.  
  
"Captain, they hit the port nacelle. We won't be able to go to warp until we complete repairs."  
  
"Captain," Tuvok said. "Shields are at seventy two percent."  
  
The logical course was to send an SOS, but Harry had already determined it was hopeless. There was simply too much interference from radiation surrounding their hiding place. The only other option was to send someone for help.  
  
"Captain," Tom said. "Let me take the _Delta Flyer_ to go for help. We're not that far away from Deep Space Nine. The _Flyer_ is small and fast. I can outrun those Romulan ships."  
  
Janeway didn't take long to consider his proposal. "No," she said. "I'm not sending you out. The _Delta Flyer_ was not designed for level 10 plasma storms."  
  
"I know the Badlands, Captain," Tom said stubbornly. "I can avoid the really bad spots." He grinned suddenly. "This is exactly why I was brought along on this little trip in the first place--even if you didn't realize that at the time."  
  
"You knew the Badlands, past tense, Lieutenant," Janeway said. "In the past eight years, the plasma patterns have shifted. And the fact remains that unlike the _Flyer, Voyager_ was designed to maneuver in this environment."  
  
He took a deep breath. "With all due respect, Captain, can you come up with a better plan?"  
  
She was silent. Tom knew there was no viable alternative.  
  
Chakotay spoke up. "I'll go with him. He'll need a second pilot if he has to make his way to Deep Space Nine."  
  
Janeway stared at him in surprise. Since their 'uncomfortable' association in the early days of the journey, Chakotay and Tom had learned to work together in more or less harmony. But she hadn't expected to hear Chakotay volunteer to go on such a dangerous mission with the man he'd once distrusted so deeply.  
  
Tom also seemed startled, but he recovered more quickly and smiled impishly. "Two heads are better than one, eh, Commander?"  
  
"Not until we first look at some other options," Janeway said firmly. "As soon as Astrometrics is finally back online, have them make a detailed map of the region." She sighed heavily. "If we can't find an alternative, you'll need one."  
  
#  
  
Sub-Commander Virapl turned angrily to his tactical officer as the _Aehallh_'s sensors started to fade, again.  
  
The young officer cowered slightly as he spoke. "Sub-Commander, we have entered a level 6 plasma storm. Engineering is trying to compensate."  
  
"Have them stop trying and actually _do_ something," Virapl snarled. "What has happened to _Voyager_?"  
  
"They went deeper into the storm. Their ship appears to be better equipped to handle the stresses. The _Aehallh_ is a mere science vessel. We're unable to..."  
  
"The Romulan Empire did not endure for millennia because it was unable to accomplish what needed to be done! I know the capabilities of this ship. Do not tell me your suppositions. Our alliance with the Federation" --Virapl spat out -- "has made us weak." He struggled to regain his control. "Helm, set a heading of zero-zero-four. We're following them." That Federation ship was the key to his promotion. Failure was not an option.  
  
The bridge crew carried out their orders without any more questioning looks. Nolqira had helped him select the crew for this mission, vouching for their loyalty and competence. Next time, he wouldn't accept Nolqira's help. He turned to look behind him and was annoyed to see the two Ferengi standing near the turbolift.  
  
"I thought I'd ordered all non-essential personnel to remain in their quarters," he snarled.  
  
"We're not 'non-essential,' " Blont said condescendingly. "You wouldn't be here without our information."  
  
Virapl's hand moved slowly toward his disrupter. Ferengi were self-serving cowards. He may have been ordered to work with them until the mission was completed, but as far as he was concerned, their usefulness was long over.  
  
Nunk tugged nervously on his brother's arm, whispering, "Brother, we must leave."  
  
"You should listen to your _brother,_ Ferengi," Virapl said menacingly.  
  
"Very well, Sub-Commander," Blont said. "I can see you are already doing _so_ well without our help."  
  
Virapl turned away. The two Ferengi would not live to see the end of this mission. Nolqira had left explicit instructions for this--as well as the exact method to be used. The Ferengi wanted to get their hands on _Voyager_'s technology for their own nefarious purposes? It would be interesting to see how they would fare aboard one of _Voyager_'s shuttles, which would experience a sudden life support failure.  
  
"Sub-Commander," Sub-Lieutenant Parval said. "The _Khellian_ is contacting us. "  
  
"Excellent." Virapl turned to face the screen. "Sub-Commander Shopar. Our quarry has moved deeper into the Badlands. We will need to flush them out. Proceed to our location and have the probes ready."  
  
Sub-Commander Shopar acknowledged the order.  
  
#  
  
As soon as they entered the tiny room the Romulan Sub-Commander had designated as their quarters, Blont raised his hand to strike his little brother. "You idiot! It's your fault we had to leave the Bridge!"  
  
"Don't hit me," Nunk whimpered. "He would have killed us."  
  
Blont shook his head. "No, we are still too important." His expression grew even more cunning than usual. "After all, we haven't told them _everything_ about _Voyager_."  
  
Nunk relaxed. "That's right."  
  
"Virapl may have been able to kick us off his bridge, but we will choose the right moment for our departure from this venture," Blont said. "And with assets that will make us rich beyond our wildest dreams."  
  
Nunk grinned. "We'll take that pretty Romulan female with us when we leave?"  
  
"Brother," Blont once again considered hitting Nunk. "You really _are_ stupid, aren't you? You will never succeed in business unless you learn to focus on the important things. This is exactly why our attempt to steal that Borg, Seven of Nine, was doomed to failure."  
  
"_Our_ attempt?" Nunk said indignantly. "You weren't even there when we fled from the ships Starfleet sent to track us down. They captured Yeggie and Gegis. I was the only one who managed to escape. All you contributed was that hologram, and look what it got us. The damn thing turned on us."  
  
"I had to flee, too. I lost my contacts and my business because of your bumbling."  
  
Nunk grimaced. "You mean you lost the business that should have been mine."  
  
"It's not my fault you don't have the lobes for business." Blont sat down on the one cot. "I'm going to get some sleep. See that our ship is secure. My faith in Virapl is diminishing." Their ship, the _Avarice_, was all they had left after the disastrous attempt to steal the Borg woman, more than a year earlier.  
  
"I don't trust Virapl either," Nunk said, displaying a knack for stating the obvious once again. "He wants to kill us."  
  
"I'm sure he does, but not until after _Voyager_ is captured," Blont said, grimly holding on to what was left of his patience. "Now be quiet. I want to get some sleep."  
  
"Yes, brother." Looking longingly at the cot, Nunk stretched out on the cold duranium floor. "I'm tired, too," he added, with an exaggerated sigh.  
  
"Nunk! The ship! Keep watch!" Blont shouted as he collapsed on the cot. "You can sleep later."  
  
#  
  
Joe stifled a yawn as he entered Engineering. He stretched. He'd spent the past two hours crawling through the Jefferies tubes. "Do you know where Torres is?" he asked Vorik. "I stopped by her cabin but there was no answer."  
  
"She is up there." Vorik pointed to the catwalk above their heads.  
  
Joe shook his head. "Thanks." He couldn't believe that B'Elanna was still going strong. She needed sleep; she'd been on duty the six hours prior to entering the slipstream, and he suspected that she hadn't had a break since the Romulans' first attack.  
  
"Joe," she shouted down to him. "I'm glad you're here. Astrometrics is still experiencing power fluctuations."  
  
He motioned for Vorik to deal with Astrometrics. "Lieutenant Torres, when did you last sleep?"  
  
"I don't have time," she said tersely. "We have to get _Voyager_ repaired."  
  
"I know." He started climbing the ladder. "But that doesn't answer my question."  
  
"I don't know," she said, still refusing to look up from her work. "Twenty four hours or so. That's not important."  
  
He grinned, despite their situation. Some things never changed. "Lieutenant, with all due respect, either you agree to go to sleep for four hours, or I do this the hard way."  
  
"With my Klingon genes, my endurance is a lot higher than the rest of the staff," she protested. "If anyone needs sleep, it's people like Nicoletti."  
  
"True, but I know you've made sure everyone else has gotten a few hours of sleep," he countered. "It's your turn now."  
  
She glared at him as he continued, "My shift began after we exited the slipstream. So I've only been on duty for fifteen hours." No point telling her that he'd even though he'd been off duty, he hadn't been sleeping but instead standing in the Mess Hall with other crew members watching their progress in the slipstream.  
  
Abruptly, she gave in. "Four hours. But that's all. Then _you_ will take a break. And Joe, if anything happens while I'm resting, I need to be told right away." She glanced at the console. "See if you can find a way to cut through the radiation and get the sensors back to full capacity. We need to keep a better eye on those Romulan ships."  
  
#  
  
Tom entered their quarters and smiled at the sight that greeted him. B'Elanna was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep, with Miral cradled in her arms. Good, he thought, someone (most likely Joe) had convinced B'Elanna to take a break. Finally.  
  
Just then, B’Elanna stirred. "Hi," she said with a yawn. "What time is it?"  
  
"Shh, go back to sleep." He was disappointed when her eyes opened more fully and she caught sight of the chronometer. Miral whimpered as B'Elanna moved to a sitting position.  
  
"I need to get back to work," B'Elanna insisted.  
  
"Not just yet. Why don't you try and get some more rest?"  
  
"What are you doing back here?" she asked. "Is everything all right? What's going on?"  
  
"The Romulans have moved off. For the moment." He took a deep breath. "The contingency plan's been given the okay. Chakotay and I will take the _Delta Flyer_ and go for help."  
  
"Tom!" Miral started to cry. B'Elanna sat up and rocked the baby in her arms. "It's dangerous, and unnecessary. We'll get _Voyager_ repaired, I know we can, and then we can all head toward Deep Space Nine."  
  
"We're running out of time." Tom hesitated. "Harry is convinced that the second message was the real one. The first was just a decoy, probably a real message that was intercepted and altered, to lead us to where we are now. It would have worked to perfection if we didn't have that little 'problem' with the slipstream that we 'solved' by leaving the slipstream three seconds early."  
  
She sagged as Miral's crying subsided. "You're saying it was a trap? That the Romulans somehow planned this?"  
  
"It certainly looks that way. There's no sign of any other Federation ship in the vicinity. So much for our planned rendezvous with the _Enterprise_." He leaned over and kissed her softly. "Don't worry about me."  
  
B'Elanna closed her eyes. "Can't someone else go? Why does it always have to be you?"  
  
"It goes with the territory of being the best pilot we've got. You know that."  
  
"I know." She hesitated. "Tom...just be careful out there, all right?"  
  
Tom winked. "I have to be. Just think what the captain would do to me if her favorite first officer is injured. Losing a pip again would be the least of it!"  
  
She forced a smile. "You also might want to remind Chakotay just what an angry Klingon is capable of doing--so he'd better take care of you." Her smile faded. "When are you leaving?"  
  
"Not for another six hours. There's an Engineering team working right now to modify the _Flyer_ so she can better withstand any plasma discharges--from the storms, or from the Romulans." He kissed her again. "I promise to be careful--if you promise to try and take a real nap." He took Miral from her. "And now, Daddy's little girl wants to spend some quality time with her old man."  
  
He was pleased when B'Elanna nodded and sank back on the pillows with a sigh.  
  
#  
  
"We fought our way across the galaxy and now, at the moment of our triumphant return, I have to call Starfleet for help?" Janeway sighed. "Somehow, this isn't the way I imagined our homecoming."  
  
"You weren't counting on being attacked by Romulans as soon as you showed up in the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay pointed out reasonably.  
  
"I just wish there was another way--that we could handle the repairs ourselves. God knows we did it often enough in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
Chakotay looked up from his PADD, then placed it down on her desk. "Kathryn, we don't have a lot of choice. Even though it appears that we've shaken the Romulans for the moment, we'd be spotted again as soon as we start to move. And the port nacelle needs external repairs. What _Voyager_ really needs is a long stretch in a spacedock."  
  
"Why couldn't our luck have held out for a few more days," she grumbled softly. "And you are so sure the _Delta Flyer_ won't be spotted?"  
  
"She's smaller and more maneuverable." He chuckled. "At any rate, it's less likely that both ships will come after us." He reached for her hand. "It _will_ work."  
  
"If you say 'trust me,' I'll send Jenkins instead," she warned him.  
  
"Lora doesn't have enough hours clocked in the _Delta Flyer_." He was quiet for a moment. "You still have four hours to come up with a better plan."  
  
She sat down in her chair and closed her eyes wearily. "And I'm trying to. Believe me, I am." She attempted to lighten the situation. "Honestly, I don't know what terrifies me more, the Romulans, or the thought of you flying in a shuttle."  
  
He clasped his hands over his heart and sighed dramatically. "I'm hurt."  
  
"You'd better not be, Commander, I'm warning you right now." She picked up one of the dozen PADDs in front of her. "Too bad the Zornon cloak won't work in the Badlands. It would go a long way to canceling their advantage over us."  
  
"The plasma storms and intense ionization are also preventing the Romulans from using their cloaks," he reminded her.   
  
She waved his words away. "But there's no way to tell if there are more cloaked ships waiting for us once we emerge from the Badlands."  
  
He reached down and pulled her to her feet. "Stop being so pessimistic," he ordered, tilting her face up to his.  
  
"I'm not pessimistic," she said with a huff. "I'm being...umm...thorough in my appraisal of everything that could possibly go wrong. It's about eight hours from here to Deep Space Nine--a lot can happen in that amount of time."  
  
He shook his head. "Pessimist." He added, "Besides, the _Enterprise_ is also out there."  
  
"We don't know that," she said, her frown returning. "If Harry is right, that first message was completely bogus, intended to lure us here and put us off our guard."  
  
Chakotay chuckled. "I'm sure Starfleet Intelligence is going to love that. Harry also said all the security codes were properly embedded. I'm more inclined to believe it was a legitimate message that was intercepted and only had a few modifications."  
  
"If the Romulans intercepted the original and just made a few key changes...like where we were supposed to meet the _Enterprise_? Hell, she could be waiting for us near Jupiter, for all we know." She shook her head.  
  
He laughed. "Come on, admit it. You just want us to return under our own power."  
  
"Of course. We fought tooth and nail to make it here; we deserve to reach our destination, whether it's Deep Space Nine or Earth, without any help."  
  
"The important thing is to get home safely," he reminded her. "Come on, Kathryn, we've come too far to let pride get in the way now."  
  
"You're right, let's not make any mistakes now, not when we're so close." She sighed again. "Very well. I still don't like the idea, but I guess we don't have any other choice. But," she said sternly, "I want you and Tom to have at least four hours sleep before you leave."  
  
"Aye, Captain," he said with alacrity. He threw a quick glance toward the bedroom and held out his hand to her.  
  
"Alone, Commander," she admonished. "You need to spend your time in bed _sleeping_."  
  
  



	4. Act 3

  
**Act 3**  
  
Tom glanced over at Chakotay as the commander sat down and gave his superior officer a quick thumb's up. "_Delta Flyer_ to _Voyager_. We're ready for departure. Any last minute developments regarding the Romulans?"  
  
_"Their position is unchanged."_ Janeway's voice said. _"I'm expecting dinner at Deep Space Nine tomorrow night, Commander, at the best restaurant on the Promenade."_  
  
"Aye, Captain," Chakotay responded. "I'll make sure they serve coffee."  
  
Janeway chuckled. _"Not until we arrive on Earth. Opening docking bay doors. Good luck."_  
  
"Let's do it," Chakotay said confidently. Tom nodded as he guided the _Flyer_ out of _Voyager_.  
  
The plan was to take advantage of the plasma eddies and electrical discharges in the Badlands to hide their escape. Once beyond the boundaries of the region, they would fly as fast as possible and hope like hell that the Romulans wanted _Voyager_ more than they wanted to chase the _Flyer_. Tom glanced at the starchart Megan had been able to provide on his display screen.  
  
"So far, so good," he said softly to himself and then raised his voice. "Commander, the two Romulan ships don't seem to have noticed us. They're still heading in the opposite direction."  
  
Chakotay shook his head. "Don't relax yet. We don't know if there are any other ships waiting for us."  
  
"True." Tom frowned when the _Flyer_ shook. "Damn. We're going to have to modify the course. The storms in this area are increasing." They both knew there was a fine balance between using the storms as a cover and being caught up in their treacherous currents themselves.  
  
"New course plotted," Chakotay acknowledged. He frowned as they headed for an area of clearer space. "Not much to hide behind here."  
  
"We'll make it. I estimate forty-five minutes before we leave the Badlands." Tom glanced around. "I can think of better places for a homecoming."  
  
"I'll settle for a warm welcome. Or, at least, a warm meal."  
  
Tom chuckled in agreement. The cold pasta which was all he'd had time for in lieu of breakfast would have been improved--marginally--with heat. And as for a warm welcome...  
  
"We're heroes," Tom said, running through a minute series of navigational adjustments. "Starfleet isn't going to be so stupid as to throw us all in jail."  
  
"Has your father said anything?" Chakotay asked, a little too casually.  
  
"Not that I've heard," Tom said, wondering why Chakotay was asking. Sudden understanding dawned. "You mean the brass *_still_* haven't said anything to Janeway?" he said incredulously.  
  
"Not a word."  
  
He took a moment to digest the implications. "Well, after nearly eight years of being constantly on the go, a little down time would be nice," Tom drawled with the smart-ass grin he knew drove Chakotay up the wall. At the very least it should provide some distraction. He wasn't sure he wanted to get into a heart-to-heart with the commander. But Chakotay refused to take the bait. Resigned, Tom said, "So, do you have any plans?"  
  
"For when we return?" Chakotay shook his head. "I'm in limbo until I know just what Starfleet is going to do with me."  
  
"Do you want to stay in Starfleet?"  
  
"If they'll have me? I don't know. For one thing, I've got no hope of advancement--I know I'll never be given command. You?"  
  
"I'd love to stay on as a pilot," Tom said, trying not to let too much emotion seep into his words. "I know I can never expect to have my own command either, not with all the baggage I'm towing around, thanks to the more dubious achievements of my first stint in Starfleet. But I suppose I have a future as a holoprogramer," he added sardonically. "It would give me time to spend with B'Elanna and Miral. A work at home kind of job."  
  
"You'll drive them and yourself crazy."  
  
"Probably." Tom shrugged. "It may all be moot anyway. One good thing, Mom will raise Miral if we all land in jail."  
  
Chakotay laid a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder. "It won't be that bad. Starfleet--"  
  
"Starfleet is a quagmire of bureaucracy," Tom snapped and twisted away. "Everything has to fit into a neat slot, but you know what? The Maquis, the Equinox--hell, practically the entire crew--we just don't fit into a nice little pigeonhole. And let me tell you, the brass don't like people or things that don't fit their definition of 'regular.' " Before B'Elanna had come into his life, before Miral, he could easily claim he didn't care. Now he knew better--and suspected that everyone else did as well. He stabbed angrily at his controls. "Where the hell are the Romulans?"  
  
Chakotay studied him for a second. "Still looking for _Voyager_, although one of the ships has changed direction."  
  
"Hopefully they’re not coming after us." Tom hoped the Romulans left soon. They'd more than overstayed their welcome. He suspected their original plan had been to snatch _Voyager_ and flee. Now the element of surprise was gone, and with each passing hour, the chance of _Voyager_ being able to elude them increased. Though why no one from Starfleet was looking for them as well was puzzling.  
  
#  
  
Virapl gritted his teeth. "What in the name of S'task is that!" he shouted. The tiny blip vanished again. It wasn't _Voyager_, so it shouldn't matter, but it was still a mystery. And Virapl did not like mysteries, particularly when he was on a sensitive--and so far frustrating--mission.  
  
"As near as we can tell, it is merely a spatial anomaly," the centurion said. "It first appeared two minutes ago."  
  
"An anomaly? I'd expect such a weak excuse from our Ferengi 'allies,' " he spat out the word, "but NOT from a well-trained officer of his Imperial Majesty's fleet."  
  
"Sub-Commander Virapl," an oily voice said from behind him. Virapl turned swiftly and felt his anger reach the boiling point.  
  
"You were ordered to remain off the Bridge," he snapped at the Ferengi.  
  
"Yes," Blont said with a sickening smile. "But I heard that a ship had been spotted."  
  
Virapl wondered just how Blont had heard this. He would have security scour the ship for any hidden listening devices. "How..."  
  
Blont raised a hand, "That's not important. The ship is probably the _Delta Flyer_."  
  
"_Delta Flyer_? I don't recognize the name."  
  
"It's a small shuttle designed and built by _Voyager_'s crew." Blont walked over to the console and took a quick glance. "Ahhh. Yes. No doubt about it. _Voyager_ must be more damaged than we thought if they are sending the _Delta Flyer_ for help."  
  
"And there is a reason you didn't tell us about this shuttle before?" Virapl asked waspishly.  
  
Blont shrugged. "I did not think such knowledge would be important. It wasn't part of our original deal."  
  
"Sub-Commander," the centurion said from the helm. "The *_supposed_* shuttle is on a heading for Deep Space Nine."  
  
Virapl made a quick decision. He might not like Blont, but unfortunately, he had to admit that the two Ferengi did know more about _Voyager_ than he did. "Break off our search for _Voyager_. Shopar will have to manage on his own. Plot a course to intercept, Warp five, and send a message to Sub-Commander Shopar that we are pursuing an unidentified vessel. Prepare to engage the cloak once we are free of the Badlands." He looked scornfully at the Ferengi. "And remove this vermin from my sight."  
  
As he leaned back and watched his bridge crew scramble to obey his orders, Virapl added a few more items to his growing list of complaints about this mission. The shadowy Tal Shiar agent, Nolqira, had made many promises, but so far, _Voyager_ had eluded easy capture. If they didn't find the Federation vessel soon, the mission would be a failure--and consequences would be dire in that case.  
  
The one consolation would be that the Ferengi brothers would die with him.  
  
#  
  
Tom slowed the _Flyer_ as they approached the edge of the Badlands. "Any sign of the Romulans?" He didn't expect a positive response. The sensors had been intermittently affected by the storms.  
  
Chakotay shook his head. "No. Too much ionization is interfering with our sensors."  
  
"Theirs, too, I hope." Tom gestured at the screen, where the boundary to clearer space was rapidly growing closer. "Well, shall we?" Tom was glad to see clear space. The plasma storms had affected every system on the ship and made going to warp impossible. The sooner they were out of the Badlands, the faster they would arrive at Deep Space Nine--and the sooner they could bring help.  
  
Tom accelerated the _Flyer_ so that when they were free of the last plasma storm, they would be traveling at warp two. The ionization decreased exponentially as they made their way out of the Badlands. Chakotay grumbled as he adjusted the settings. One of the lights on the board started to flash.  
  
"I've found _Voyager_...and one of the Romulan ships," Chakotay said quietly, staring at the data readout. "It's about one hundred kilometers from _Voyager_." Tom relaxed slightly. For now at least, _Voyager_ was still intact and her hiding place must not have been discovered.  
  
"What about the other one?"  
  
"No sign. Adjusting scanning range."  
  
Tom tensed as he banked the _Delta Flyer_ sharply to the starboard side just as they exited the Badlands.  
  
"What are you doing?" Chakotay demanded.  
  
"Evasive maneuvers," Tom said tersely.  
  
"I didn't order you to do that--"  
  
"My instincts did. We're missing one ship, Commander. If the damn thing is cloaked, it could be practically on top of us, and we wouldn't have a clue. All I know is that I've got a bad feeling about this." Tom seriously considered taking the _Flyer_ back into the Badlands and trying to exit at another point.  
  
"Scanning for tachyon...You're right, Tom!" Chakotay exclaimed. "Romulan ship decloaking less than 50 kilometers off our port bow."  
  
Tom's response was to increase their speed. Shields were already at maximum. He started flying an erratic course hoping to avoid incoming weapons. "Can we send a message?"  
  
"No. They're jamming us." Chakotay flicked a switch. "Weapons are ready."  
  
"Won't do any good," Tom mumbled. They both knew that. He smiled grimly and adjusted his course.  
  
"Tom, what the hell do you think you're going?" Chakotay asked as he noted their new heading. "Not only is that the opposite direction of where we're trying to get to, but there's a massive asteroid field in our path!"  
  
"That's right," Tom said, keeping his attention focused on his navigation console, with only an occasional glance at the viewscreen. "They'd be fools to follow us in, now wouldn't they?"  
  
"True," Chakotay replied, "But the odds--" Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a blinding flash of light. The _Flyer_ shook violently as it was hit by a cloud of small pebbles. Tom swore under his breath as he fought to retain control of the spinning shuttle. Nearby, a console sparked.  
  
"Stabilize the shields," he shouted. There was no response. Tom's swearing increased as he wasted precious seconds reaching out and activating the shield controls himself. Only then did he hazard a glance at Chakotay.  
  
Tom's heart sank. The commander lay on the floor, a huge gash on his head, with blood flowing freely. "Damn. Damn. I don't have time for this!" There was a second blast as the _Flyer_ came a little too close to a second asteroid. Maybe he could have avoided that one if he hadn't been distracted by Chakotay's condition. "Computer, send a distress signal."  
  
_"Unable to comply. The comm system is inoperable."_  
  
He gritted his teeth as he rolled the _Flyer_ to avoid yet another large asteroid. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all. He'd have to reduce speed if they were going to avoid any more near-collisions. A glance at the position of the Romulan vessel, rapidly gaining on the _Flyer_, made him change his mind. "Just going to have to wing it and hope for the best," he muttered.  
  
The asteroid blew up.  
  
The reason for the explosion quickly became apparent. The Romulan ship did not want to risk losing sight of its quarry and was simply firing at everything in its path. The shuttle vibrated violently as the smaller rocks--debris from the explosions--hit the ship. Tom grimaced as he sharply dropped the _Flyer_ till it was level with the underside of a particularly large asteroid, then immediately banked the _Flyer_ starboard. The asteroid surface was deeply pitted with countless craters. He smiled at the sight of one such crater which looked to be approximately six kilometers in diameter. "Well Commander, I don't know about you, but I don't feel like being pulverized. Not just yet." He brought the _Flyer_ about, till they were just at the entrance to the tunnel, then cut the engines almost immediately. As expected, the shuttle glided in smoothly and came to a halt.  
  
"I always was good at hide-and-seek," he said with some measure of satisfaction. Now, if only the Romulans would get tired of the game first, or, with any luck, have an unfortunate encounter with an asteroid...  
  
His satisfaction faded as he turned his attention to the commander, who was still unconscious. At least he was breathing. "Damn you, Chakotay. I'm a pilot, not a doctor." He grabbed the medkit under his seat and pulled out the tricorder.  
  
#  
  
Virapl's brow furrowed in consternation. "I want that shuttle! I don't care if you have to blow up every asteroid to find it!"  
  
"Aye, Sub-Commander," came the immediate response. Virapl sat down in his command chair. He needed to appear calm and concentrate on the mission. The _Delta Flyer_ had to be destroyed quickly. They couldn't risk allowing the shuttle to get away and bring help. As it was, _Voyager_ had eluded them for over twenty-two hours. The Badlands might be far away from most of civilization; but with each passing hour, the odds increased that that a random patrol ship would discover the Romulan presence.  
  
Dimly, he was aware of a steady series of explosions, each one followed by a shower of debris, as the crew proceeded to take their sub-commander at his word and destroy every asteroid that could possibly be concealing the _Delta Flyer_. But the shuttle refused to reveal itself.  
  
He debated canceling the mission. Nolqira had said this was not an option, but Nolqira had been wrong about everything else.  
  
There was no choice. Virapl stared at the viewscreen as his ship's phasers destroyed yet another asteroid. "Any sign of that ship?" he asked. He tensed as his science officer answered.  
  
"No, Sub-Commander." The young man hesitated, clearly afraid to speak his next words. "We've lost them, sir."  
  
#  
  
Blont shook his head at the images coming in from the bridge, then shoved his brother away from the computer monitor in their quarters. "You know I don't like it when you watch over my shoulder."  
  
Nunk growled as he picked himself off the floor. "Sub-Commander Virapl has failed. The _Delta Flyer_ is still at large. Do we know what is happening with Shopar's ship?"  
  
Blont shook his head. "Virapl has tried several times to communicate with him, unsuccessfully. Doubtless the plasma storms are interfering with communications."  
  
"Nolqira made a poor choice when he selected Virapl to head this mission," Nunk sniffed. "Virapl has ignored us--or been unaccountably rude--ever since this mission began."  
  
"True." Blont shut the image off, convinced that there was nothing more to be learned. "What about our ship?"  
  
"Virapl has placed guards in the docking bay, but..." Nunk lifted his tunic to show a small metal container. "That shouldn't be a problem." He smiled, showing his overly large teeth. "And I was able to install the cloaking device. We're set to leave whenever you wish."  
  
"Excellent." Blont considered their options. "Another half hour, I think." He patted the bag at his feet. "Even in the worst of deals, a shrewd trader can still manage to turn a profit. We'll use our 'insurance policy' of gassing the crew--according to our original escape plan--and then we can leave."  
  
"At least this mission will not be a total waste," Nunk agreed, greedily eyeing the bag. He cringed when he noticed Blont looking at him. He hastily added, "But perhaps we should leave now? I don't trust Virapl."  
  
"I don't trust him either." Blont glanced around the room. "Maybe we should leave now?"  
  
Nunk didn't bother to answer the question he himself had asked Blont only a second earlier. There was no need. They were in agreement. It was time to go.  
  
#  
  
Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Captain, I still can't locate the second Romulan ship."  
  
She stopped at his console and looked at the readout. "Did they go after the _Flyer_?"  
  
He grimaced. It was a logical question.  
  
"I don't know. They vanished soon after the _Flyer_ departed. The storms are intensifying. Long range scans are barely functional. I'm unable to contact the _Flyer_ either."  
  
"We knew from the outset that interference from the plasma storms would interfere with subspace communication," Tuvok pointed out.  
  
"The _Flyer_ will be all right, Harry," Janeway said as she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn't know whether she was trying to reassure him or herself. "If anyone can get through this, it's Tom. He's the best pilot we have."  
  
"I know." He closed his eyes. "We could try diverting more power to scans. It would help tracking the other Romulan ship, too."  
  
Janeway shook her head regretfully. "We've already cut back on too many systems."  
  
Harry started to answer, but he noticed a flash on the console image. He quickly transferred the image to the main viewscreen.  
  
"Captain, sensors are detecting explosions just beyond the Badlands."  
  
"Is it the _Flyer_?" she asked, her voice absolutely flat, with no inflection whatsoever.  
  
"Can't tell," Harry replied. It was about where they expected the _Delta Flyer_ to be. The image wavered as one of the many plasma storms flared.  
  
#  
  
Tom bent over Chakotay's prone form and injected a hypo, then took another hasty scan. There was no change.  
  
"Damn it, Chakotay. You can't go and die on me. B'Elanna will kill me--and that's before she gives me to the captain."  
  
"Lieutenant," a faint voice said. "Next time I'm doing the flying."  
  
Tom laughed shakily in relief. "Whatever you say, Commander. It's about time you decided to wake up."  
  
Chakotay raised a hand to his head and encountered the rough dermaseal wrappings. "My head hurts."  
  
"That's because you have quite a gash underneath that bandage, Commander, and I'll thank you not to disturb my handiwork. You've sustained a pretty major concussion."  
  
"Any other injuries?"  
  
"Aside from a sprained wrist and a few contusions on your face and neck, that's about it." He added, "You were pretty lucky. You took the full force of the blast when the console in front of you blew."  
  
Chakotay winced. "What did you do, plow into an asteroid?"  
  
"Something like that." At Chakotay's confused look, Tom added, "I took us inside one of the larger asteroids, hoping to throw the Romulans off our trail."  
  
The proximity sensors beeped again.  
  
"Damn. Looks like they're still out there." He gave Chakotay a speculative glance. "If you're up to it, I could use your help."  
  
"I'm fine." Chakotay's pained expression belied his words as he heaved himself into his seat. "Just tell me what you want me to do."  
  
Tom sat down in the pilot's chair and ignited the engines. The Romulans were being incredibly stubborn. And efficient. He figured he had approximately five minutes before the Romulans blasted their asteroid shelter.  
  
And even less time once he lifted off.  
  
#  
  
Virapl closed his link to his security officer. He wanted the two Ferengi thrown in the brig. It would make getting rid of them easier. Virapl was sure Nolqira wouldn't object if he modified the Tal Shiar officer's plan for eliminating the two brothers to fit the changed circumstances. He opened his mouth to give the order to pull back from their present position.  
  
"Sub-Commander, we have found the _Delta Flyer_!"  
  
All thoughts of retreat and failure vanished at once. Virapl smiled at the sight of the little ship lifting off from the asteroid. "Lock disrupters on target and prepare to fire."  
  
"_Security to bridge_."  
  
"What is it?" Virapl said, annoyed. He wanted to savor this moment, when the elusive prey was finally in his grasp.  
  
"_The two Ferengi are missing_."  
  
"What about their ship?" Virapl demanded.  
  
One of the bridge centurions reported, "Still in the hold. Security has a team waiting there,"  
  
"Excellent." Virapl paused for a moment. He sniffed--noticing a faint but peculiar odor. All at once, it struck him what was going on. "Vent the bridge!!" he shouted. "Security!" There was no answer. "Centurion! Vent the ship." The odor was getting stronger.  
  
As if from a distance, he heard a faint voice say, "Sir, the Ferengi ship is preparing to leave. They have overridden our security codes."  
  
Virapl swore loudly, or tried to. "Track them," he croaked. _We'll pursue them after we destroy the Delta Flyer_, he thought, though he had to fight to stay conscious. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his comm officer collapse at her station. The other three bridge officers showed signs of impending collapse as well. He closed his eyes to control his increasing dizziness. "Vent the..."  
  
#  
  
Blont grinned as he closed the door to the little ship then pulled the breather mask off his face. "Brother, strap yourself in."  
  
Nunk sat down quickly as he too yanked off his mask, wincing as the strap caught on his ears. "We have to hurry..."  
  
"Yes," Blont said calmly--more calmly than he felt. The engines sputtered to life. "Prepare to engage the cloak."  
  
Nunk was visibly relieved when the computer acknowledged that the cloak was functional. Blont was too, but decided not to let his brother know that. As the _Avarice_ flew toward the exit, the large shuttlebay doors opened on cue. They plunged into open space.  
  
"Look, Blont, there's the _Delta Flyer_," Nunk pointed excitedly at the console. The _Flyer_ was heading out of the asteroid field; Virapl's ship quickly followed.  
  
Blont shook his head and instead of trailing the other ships, guided the _Avarice_ behind a large asteroid. "Let the Romulan fool try and capture that ship, if he's awake enough to manage the job." They both laughed. "We have other pressing matters to attend to--namely, calculating just how much profit we have made from the items we have 'appropriated' from Virapl's ship."  
  
"Ferengi are not responsible for the stupidity of other races," Nunk agreed. His face fell. "If only we could we have brought the Romulan female with us."  
  
#  
  
Tom banked the _Flyer_ sharply just as the Romulan ship fired.  
  
"Prepare to return fire," Tom said, as he again rolled the ship, this time bringing her up under the bigger ship. "Aim for the engines." At best it might slow them down.  
  
Chakotay grunted and fired a second later. The Romulan ship slowly turned in pursuit, but then slowly came to a stop.  
  
"Not that I'm complaining, but why haven't they fired again?" Tom asked.  
  
"Sensors show a build-up of--this can't be right, methoxypentothiazine gas throughout the Romulan ship," Chakotay said. "That's an anesthetic, isn't it?"  
  
"I think so. An older one. Curious." Tom bit his lip. "Are you reading any life signs?"  
  
"Thirty life signs. Most are unconscious. It looks like a few individuals in Engineering may still be conscious, or at least not affected as heavily."  
  
"Which means at least some of the Romulans are still alive and kicking."  
  
"We aren't out of this yet," Chakotay agreed. "Shall we be on our way?"  
  
Tom started to key in the commands and then paused. "Not so fast, Chakotay. How would you like to bring home a Romulan ship?"  
  
"Sorry. I must be experiencing some residuals from my concussion. I could have sworn I heard you say you wanted to go after that Romulan ship."  
  
"I can't vouch for your overall state of mind, but there's nothing wrong with your hearing, Chakotay. That's exactly what I said."  
  
"Tom, if I could get a message through to Deep Space Nine, it would be different; but our communications are still being jammed."  
  
"Come on, Chakotay. It will give me a chance to fly a Romulan ship--it isn't a Bird of Prey, I admit, but not many Starfleet officers have flown _any_ Romulan ship. Then we go to rescue _Voyager_. We can't get through to Deep Space Nine over subspace. If we have to fly all the way there to get help, that other Romulan ship might have already captured _Voyager_ before we could get back." In a conspiratorial tone, he added, "Consider this another chapter of 'The Adventures of Captain Proton, Defender of Earth.' "  
  
Chakotay slowly smiled, clearly appreciating the irony of sneaking up on the Romulans in one of their own vessels. "You're on, 'Captain.' "  
  



	5. Act 4

  
**Act 4**  
  
B'Elanna declined the offered chair. "Captain, our situation is not good. In fact, I'd say we're reaching critical levels. We're losing power, instead of regaining it."  
  
Janeway knew this. The past few hours had seen a steady decline in power levels, with fluctuations and outages becoming increasingly common. "What's the status of the dilithium crystals?"  
  
"We've started the recrystalization process, but it's slow going--and we're running on half the normal amount. That energy beam the Romulans hit us with in the first attack did more damage than we initially realized. We need to cut power even more."  
  
"We're already running with minimal systems, Lieutenant," Janeway objected. "Practically the only thing we haven't cut is life support."  
  
"I know. We can lower the ship's temperature by an additional fifteen degrees, and blackout all nonessential decks--including crew quarters. Neelix is already moving emergency ration kits to the Mess Hall."  
  
Tuvok's standard evacuation drill--presupposing a disaster that rendered fully half the ship uninhabitable--would come in handy. "All right, then do it. What's the status of our weapons?"  
  
"We have phasers and photon torpedoes, but I'd like to drain the energy from the phaser banks back into our reserves." B'Elanna shifted her weight uneasily. "It will give us an extra hour or two, but that's all."  
  
They wouldn't be entirely defenseless; they'd still have the torpedoes. But the captain was still not happy with the choice. "Only as a last resort. How long do we really have, B'Elanna?"  
  
"Ten hours. Eleven or twelve if we take the phasers offline."  
  
"And if we fire up the engines to try to get out of here?"  
  
"Five."  
  
"Do what you can. We're going to need thrusters, at minimum, to get out of the Badlands." Janeway suddenly smiled. "And I have an idea."  
  
#  
  
Tom clipped the extra phaser to his belt and held the large rifle at the ready. "I'm ready, sir." He placed the breather mask over his face.  
  
Chakotay rubbed his head, careful not to disturb his wound. "I'll beam you out at the first sign of trouble. Don't do anything foolish."  
  
"Have you ever known me to do something foolish?" Tom quickly added, "Don't answer that."  
  
Chakotay rolled his eyes. Tom grinned as he was transported to the Romulan ship.   
  
Sensors showed that there were several conscious Romulans in Engineering. Tom knew he would have to take care of them first. He ran a quick scan on the first Romulan he came across. "Sleeping on duty," he muttered. "Well, this will teach you." He adjusted the controls of his tricorder to get a reading on the air and smiled when he saw the levels. No need to stun the Romulan. With such a high concentration of the anesthetic in the air, this guy would be in Dreamland for hours yet.  
  
#  
  
B'Elanna glanced at Joe who nodded and said, "Engineering teams standing by. "We're ready."  
  
"Very good," B'Elanna said, with a confidence she did not feel. "Engineering to Bridge. Preparing to cut power to all nonessential decks."  
  
_"Proceed. Transfer all power to shields, propulsion, and weapons."_  
  
"Aye, Captain." B'Elanna motioned to her staff. "All teams, status?" She ticked off each report as they came in.  
  
"Lieutenant Torres?" a voice said from behind her.  
  
"Sarexa? Your shift ended two hours ago," B'Elanna said, surprised at seeing the Talaxian.  
  
"I thought maybe you could use an extra pair of hands," Sarexa said.  
  
"We sure can. You can work with Vorik on monitoring the dilithium recrystalization process. If the matrix disintegrates even three percent more, we'll be in real trouble."  
  
Sarexa nodded and immediately set to work.  
  
B'Elanna ran her hand across her brow and muttered to herself, "Borg, Kazon, Hirogen... now Romulans...never a dull moment around here." The monitor light stopped blinking "Engineering to Bridge. Power levels have stabilized."  
  
#  
  
Nunk slapped his brother enthusiastically on the back, then pulled away from Blont to avoid any retaliatory blows in return. "We did it. Well, we almost did. But even if the Romulans manage to capture _Voyager_ now, it's too late for us to get our hands on those Borg nanoprobes."  
  
"The Romulans will not capture _Voyager_," Blont said confidently. Oddly, he didn't seem to be upset. "The hew-mons have a saying about counting ducks before they hatch. But I have an idea..."  
  
Nunk winced. Whenever Blont got that look in his eye, Nunk knew it meant trouble. "We have enough..."  
  
"This is why you don't have the lobes for business. You're too quick to turn your back on a promising venture." Blont leaned back in his chair. "_Voyager_ will go to Deep Space Nine. They will believe that the Romulans were responsible. They have no reason to believe we were involved."  
  
"I don't see how--"  
  
"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."  
  
"I can quote the Rules of Acquisition too," Nunk snarled. " 'Never spend more...' "  
  
"You idiot! What I meant is that _Voyager_ is not yet out of our reach. We will have an opportunity to try again."  
  
Nunk blanched. "But...if the Romulans couldn't capture her when she was isolated in the Badlands, how can we hope to--"  
  
" 'The riskier the road, the greater the profit.' This is why I'm in charge." Blont glanced toward the back of their ship, to the 'appropriated' equipment. "Perhaps..."  
  
Nunk didn't want to be part of Blont's newest plan--did he? He glanced back at the same pile of equipment they'd stolen from the Romulans. "Perhaps what?"  
  
Blont leapt in. "We can make another attempt at Deep Space Nine."  
  
"Surrounded by Bajoran and Federation security? We'd be idiots to try to steal _Voyager_." As terrified as he was of his brother, Nunk was even more afraid of the scheme Blont was concocting.  
  
"Not the ship itself--that might be a bit too much," Blont conceded. "But we could try kidnapping one of the Borg. The boy or the female. Maybe even both. The hew-mons hate and fear the Borg--they won't object if one of the drones goes missing." Blont smacked his lips (an annoying habit, Nunk thought). "Set a course for Deep Space Nine."  
  
"But..." Nunk's voice trailed off as he obediently set in the course to Deep Space Nine.  
  
#  
  
"Commander," Tom said quietly over his comm badge. "I'm just outside of Engineering. What's our status?"  
  
_"There are no other ships on sensors. That's the good news."_  
  
"What's the bad news?" Tom asked, though he wasn't sure he really wanted to know.  
  
_"The anesthetic levels are leveling off. The crew should start waking up in a couple of hours."_  
  
"Well, then I'll have to hurry. Paris out." He passed the tricorder over a console, then keyed in a few commands.  
  
_"Not so fast, Tom. Be careful."_  
  
Tom halted for a moment, surprised at the concern in Chakotay's voice. "I'll open the docking bay for you in a few minutes. It will be a tight fit. Don't scratch my ship."  
  
_"Your ship is in good hands, Lieutenant--mine."_  
  
"That's what I'm worried about," Tom murmured to himself as he broke the link. He checked once more to make sure the phaser rifle was set on stun. He entered a few more commands into the console and the door to Engineering slid open.  
  
The five Romulan engineers didn't notice him as he slipped in, or else they were too busy to take any action.  
  
One of them shouted something. Through his Universal Translator, Tom caught the word "core." At the same moment he recognized what they were doing-- they were trying to blow the warp core. Damn. So much for taking them quietly. He fired three shots, each of which found its mark, but the other two engineers ducked behind consoles and returned fire.  
  
"Commander," Tom said quickly as he fired back and ducked himself. "The ones in Engineering were a little livelier than we bargained for. They're attempting to detonate the warp core."  
  
_"Do you want me to beam you out of there?"_  
  
"No, I have everything under control..." He fired twice at one of the Romulans. "Or will soon."  
  
_"What about the warp core?"  
_  
"I think I stopped them before they could complete the cycle...Hang on." Tom fired at the head he saw emerging from behind a bulkhead. "Got him! Commander. How are the readings on the warp core?"  
  
_"Within normal ranges. Tom, hurry up. The ship is starting to drift toward the asteroid field."_  
  
Tom grimaced. "I'll hurry then. Any other conscious Romulans?"  
  
_"Just the one coming around to your right."_  
  
"Ahh. Thanks." Tom smiled grimly and fired again, but the Romulan swerved away. _Trying to sneak up on me_, he thought. He aimed for a gap in the equipment and waited and watched.  
  
At last there was a hint of movement. "_Rakh'orhe!_" the Romulan shouted as he charged. Tom fired and saw the engineer drop in his tracks.  
  
"I'm on my way to the Bridge," Tom said as he stood.  
  
_"Better make it fast. That ship is about to get hit by one of the smaller..."_ There was a thud and the Romulan ship shook.  
  
"I'm running now." Tom bolted out the door.  
  
#  
  
_"The Flyer is secure,"_ Chakotay's voice said.  
  
"I'm setting a course back to _Voyager_." Tom entered some numbers into the Romulan navigation console quickly as another small rock hit the ship. "New course is plotted." He sat down as the ship started to turn away from the asteroids. "How's it coming down there?"  
  
_"How did I get stuck with securing the crew?_"  
  
Tom grinned as the ship started to turn. "Because I'm the one who wanted the opportunity to fly a Romulan vessel." He stopped and checked a reading. "Transporters are on line. You can start beaming the crew into the brig."  
  
_"Will do. What's our ETA back to the Badlands?"_  
  
"We should be there in forty-five minutes."  
  
#  
  
Sub Commander Shopar entered the bridge. "Status?" he roared.  
  
"_Voyager_ has engaged thrusters. They are trying to flee us," the centurion said.  
  
"Pursue them. Ready another myotronic-energy torpedo and prepare to fire on my command."  
  
#  
  
B'Elanna stepped on the Bridge and pulled the jacket she was wearing tighter. "We're ready, Captain," she said.  
  
"Good." Janeway said with a quick glance around the bridge. "We can only afford two shots." She turned to the Tactical station. "Are you ready, Commander?"  
  
"The photon torpedoes are primed and loaded in the launching bays," Tuvok said. "Captain, I must warn you that our shields are at seventy-three point four percent. They will not withstand a sustained volley."  
  
"I know, but we can't wait any longer."  
  
"Romulan vessel is pursuing," Harry said. "They'll be within weapons range in two minutes."  
  
"Lieutenant Jenkins, set course: two-one-three."  
  
"Course laid in, Captain."  
  
"Romulans have changed course to intercept us in one point three minutes," Tuvok advised.  
  
"On screen," Janeway said. "Prepare to fire on my command."  
  
No one spoke as they watched the Romulan ship continue its approach. Janeway took a deep breath. "Adjust course to two-two-two mark five." Now, if only the Romulans failed to recognize the danger they were flying straight toward.  
  
"The Romulans are within firing range," Tuvok said.  
  
"They are powering weapons," Harry added.  
  
"Fire," Janeway said. Both torpedoes streaked outward--the first hit the Romulan ship, the second ignited the whirling phospho-sulfohydronic gas in the nearby vicinity.  
  
"Helm, maximum impulse. Get us out of here," Janeway said. "Divert power to the shields." The exploding gas cloud was heading straight toward them.  
  
She watched with growing trepidation as the ball of burning orange and white gasses sped toward _Voyager_. "All hands, brace for impact." she ordered, seconds before the ball hit. _Voyager_ shook violently, sending Janeway flying to the floor. She sat up and noted that several of the bridge crew were also on the floor. The ops station sparked. "Status?"  
  
"Captain," Tuvok said calmly. "We have cleared the Badlands."  
  
She started to sigh with relief, but bit it back at Harry's next words.  
  
"Captain," Harry said, his voice full of alarm. "I'm detecting a tachyon burst straight ahead." He added what they were all thinking. "It's almost certainly a cloaked Romulan vessel."  
  
#  
  
Chakotay shook his head and looked up from the image of _Voyager_ under attack. "What are they doing?"  
  
Tom didn't look back. "I'm not sure...What was that?" he asked as the edge of the Badlands exploded.  
  
"_Voyager_?" Chakotay tried to control his rising panic.  
  
"Scanners are unable to penetrate...wait. Commander, look!" Both men relaxed at the sight of _Voyager_ exiting the Badlands. "The ship is intact--and it doesn't look like they're being pursued. Shall I hail them?"  
  
"Of course. _Voyager_, come in..." There was silence. Chakotay tried again.  
  
#  
  
"Captain, we're being hailed," Harry said.  
  
"By whom?" Janeway asked, hoping against hope that the _Enterprise_ had finally chosen to make an appearance. But the only other ship in the vicinity appeared to be the Romulan vessel. Were they offering--or demanding--terms of surrender? At that moment, the Romulan vessel decloaked.  
  
_"Commander Chakotay to Voyager."_  
  
She didn't stop to ask how Chakotay had taken control of a Romulan ship. "Commander, it's good to hear your voice."  
  
_"Not as good as it is to hear yours, Captain. We're here to rescue you--but I see we're a bit late."_  
  
"I recall saying that I prefer to make my entrance at Deep Space Nine under my own power."  
  
He chuckled appreciatively. _"Well, maybe you can help me out, Captain. I need a full security team beamed aboard. We have thirty sleeping Romulan prisoners."_  
  
"Sleeping?"  
  
_"Someone apparently released an anesthetic into the ventilation ducts of the ship. We've vented most of it, and the Romulan crew should be regaining consciousness shortly."_  
  
"Commander Tuvok, send over a security team," Janeway ordered. "Beam the ship's captain to our brig."  
  
"Aye, Captain." Tuvok said as he left.  
  
"So, Commander, are you finished playing Buster Kincaid to Mr. Paris' Captain Proton--or was it the other way around?" She couldn't see his face, since their communication was audio-only, but his chuckle was very reassuring. She was about to continue teasing him, but Harry interrupted her before she could say anything more.  
  
"Captain, I'm detecting a ship on long range sensors."  
  
"Not another Romulan vessel, I hope?" the captain said.  
  
"No. Captain, it's the _Enterprise_. They're hailing us."  
  
  



	6. Epilogue

  
**Epilogue**  
  
Nolqira was beside himself. Idiots! He was surrounded by idiots! How could Virapl have been so bloody stupid to survive the mission? The Federation was furious--and of course, the Romulan government was making absurd statements about finding the culprits.  
  
At least Shopar had the decency to obey orders and destroy his ship--and everyone on it. The Tal Shiar agent knew that wasn't much of a consolation. Nolqira turned as his computer announced an incoming message. He was surprised, since no one knew where he was.  
  
"Senator Ralurm."  
  
_"Nolqira. I'm sure you heard."_  
  
He just nodded, her smile made him nervous.  
  
_"Good. You see, Senator Mykar has promised a complete investigation. He suspects my involvement."_  
  
Nolqira laughed. "I understand, Senator _Dha'rudh_\--" he spat out the insult, "--but he doesn't know about me."  
  
He stopped laughing as her smile grew. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." The screen went blank. Nolqira stared at it for several seconds. Obviously, he had to disappear sooner than planned. He sat down, opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and activated a hidden button. A small drawer clicked open. He picked up the document that lay there and replaced it with his old identification card.  
  
There was a crashing sound just outside the door followed by the door being blown inward. He ducked.  
  
Six Romulan security officers rushed in. "Agent Nolqira?"  
  
"No. I don't know anyone by that name." Nolqira smiled politely as he closed the drawer by leaning against it.  
  
"You are under arrest by order of his Imperial Majesty," the sub-commander said.  
  
"I'm sure there must be some mistake," he said as he stepped forward.  
  
"Agent Nolqira, there is no mistake. You are under arrest for treason." The sub-commander motioned two of his soldiers forward.  
  
#  
  
As she walked in, Janeway glanced around the transporter room and nodded to Harry. This wasn't quite how she'd envisioned this moment. Her ship was badly damaged, and the temperature was too low for comfort--but the fact remained--they had done it. She took a quick look at the assembled senior staff. Chakotay grinned fleetingly and moved to stand at her side.  
  
The Doctor moved away from Harry, armed with his holo-camera: he'd insisted this moment needed to be preserved for posterity. No one had argued with him.  
  
The transporter shimmered, and several forms appeared. Commander William Riker stepped off the pad. More than anything else, the sight of the _Enterprise_ away team brought home the fact that _Voyager_ had finally made it to the end of her journey.  
  
Janeway smiled, happier than she had been for some time. No, happy was not quite the right word. Relieved. She was relieved that she had finally kept her promise to bring her crew home. For some reason it was all she could do not to start crying. Harry wiped his eyes. Even Chakotay seemed misty-eyed.  
  
Riker shook Janeway's hand. "Let me be the first to welcome you home, Captain."  
  
"Thank you. It's good to be home." She glanced at his collar and silently counted the number of pips. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, Commander, but where's Captain Picard? Or don't we rate being met by the captain of the flagship?" she said, with a grin and a twinkle in her eye.  
  
"You _definitely_ rate, Captain, believe me. Captain Picard is furious at missing you--but he was on leave back at Earth when our orders came to meet you at Deep Space Nine. What are you doing out here anyway? The word was that you were going to emerge from the slipstream and proceed directly to Deep Space Nine."  
  
"It's a long story," Janeway said.  
  
"And I take it the Romulans are involved?" Riker asked shrewdly.  
  
"The evidence certainly points that way," Janeway said, "considering that they had two ships waiting for us as soon as we exited into normal space."  
  
"I'm sure Starfleet will be making full inquiries into the matter. So," Riker said as he turned and shook Tom's hand. "I hear you're the one who captured the Romulan ship."  
  
"Yes, sir. Commander Chakotay helped."  
  
"Good job. Now, is there anything I can do for you, Captain Janeway? The _Enterprise_ is at your service."  
  
"We have thirty prisoners, which is slightly more than our brig can safely hold. Would it be possible for you to take a few drowsy Romulans off our hands?" she answered, grinning wryly.  
  
Riker laughed. "I think we have room in our brig to accommodate quite a few of them, Captain."   
  
"Excellent. We also have a number of repairs to complete before we can get underway. Lieutenant Torres has a list of materials that we need."  
  
"I'll send our chief engineer over. Lieutenant Commander Stone wants to see all this Borg tech in person."  
  
"What happened to Commander La Forge?" Janeway asked in surprise. "Don't tell me one of the _Enterprise_ officers finally accepted an assignment on another vessel!"  
  
Riker laughed, not entirely naturally. "Miracles do happen, Captain. Geordi was reassigned to the transwarp development project over at Utopia Planitia in July. Stone is still new to the _Enterprise_, but she's more than capable."  
  
"We look forward to meeting her," Janeway said. Perhaps it hadn't been very kind of her to tweak Riker like that, but she could still recall the hotshot Academy cadet who told everyone who cared to listen how he was going to make captain by age 30, beating Jim Kirk's record. But ambitions sometimes change, as she knew from personal experience. She caught the eye of her first officer and smiled.  
  
There was a grunt from the transporter pad. A tall human male with faded blond hair stepped down to join them. "I'm Commander Craig. I'm from Starfleet Department of News and Information. I'm in charge of publicity for the Pathfinder project and your homecoming. Welcome home, Captain. I have taken the liberty..."  
  
Janeway stifled a grin as she glanced once more at Chakotay who winked. Bureaucrats! Now she knew they were _really_ home.

  
-end-  
  


**Author's Note:**

> **Next Up: "In the Arms of Family,"** by the Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 Writing Staff: _Voyager's_ journey home may be almost over, but is Starfleet truly ready for its return? No matter. Some of the crew's nearest and dearest aren't willing to wait for the ship to come to them...


End file.
